The Hollow
by TheShamyFan123
Summary: Sherlock Holmes had no idea what he was getting himself into when he agreed to solve the case of Sleepy Hollow, all he knew was that he always missed something. John suggests he write about the case; it may help him remember an important detail he had forgotten. Pairing: Sherlolly


**A/N: Hello Everyone! Just wanna clear up some things before we start. This is in Sherlock's POV. He is writing down all of the events in this story from memory. Everything that is _italics_ is basically him narrating the story. Everything in regular text is a memory playing out. I will also separate it with lines. I do not own Sherlock or The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.**

**Also, credit for the title goes to sherlolly-is-jolly! I couldn't decide on a title. Thanks so much!**

* * *

_The first thing I want to tell you is why I am telling this story. My best friend and blogger, John Watson has suggested that if I write about my experiences on this particular case, that I may remember what I have forgotten. The second thing I want to tell you, is that if you do not know me personally, that I can be an utterly ridiculous man to be acquainted with. I don't sleep very often, do not eat while I am working, and can be somewhat cold. There are few people who have penetrated my inner circle of trust. There is of course, John Watson, who has already been mentioned. Amongst John is his wife, Mary. My__ landlady Mrs. Hudson, D.I. Lestrade, and my pathologist, Molly Hooper._

_Molly Hooper is where this particular story begins. I was in the lab of the morgue in St. Bartholomew's hospital. I had just finished up a rather boring case and decided to pop by and see if she had any spare parts for me to experiment on. I had not intended on eavesdropping on her conversation, but that is what had happened. I know much more about Molly Hooper than she may believe me to. I know that she has a scarce amount of family members still living, seeing as she is an only child and lost both parents to cancer. She told me once of an aunt and uncle who had moved to America when she was a girl. She used to visit them during the summers and they were like a second pair of parents to her._

_When I entered the morgue that day, I saw something I have never seen before: a crying Molly Hooper. Of course, I already knew why she was red faced and feral looking, she had just received a phone call that her aunt had died; what I didn't know was under what circumstances that she had met her end. I knew that if I had revealed my knowledge of her current situation, it may upset her. So I feigned my shock as she told me about the phone call she had just received. But when I indeed found out the cause of her aunt's demise, I promise you, I did not have to feign anything._

* * *

"She was murdered," Molly sniffled, she turned away from me as she did so.

I furrowed my brow, comfort was definitely not my area of expertise. I crossed the room to be nearer to her. I tentatively placed a hand below her shoulder and patted it in a "there, there" fashion, but I still felt as if I had done nothing to improve her state.

"There's more to it," she said quietly. I waited impatiently for her to compose herself and face me again. "Her body was found deep in the woods behind the town's church along with two other victims. Their heads were decapitated clean off and nowhere to be found. Nothing was found near the bodies except for hoof tracks."

I tried to switch off the part of my brain that wanted to scream **'Christmas'** from the rooftops as I looked into her eyes, but I'm sure my glee shown through. "So, the local police….have no leads, then?" I asked as nonchalantly as I could.

"Sleepy Hollow is lacking in the law enforcement department, unfortunately," she answered.

The gears that were turning wildly in my head, halted, "Sleepy Hollow? As in the Headless Hessian, Sleepy Hollow?"

She nodded in confirmation, "Yes. It's the whole reason my aunt and uncle moved there in the first place. It's a quiet little town with an interesting history."

I looked at the ground slightly and nodded, "Looks like someone wants the glen to live up to its expectations," I could feel how grave my voice sounded at this.

She moved away from me as I spoke, gathering her tools that she had been using that day, preparing to wash them. "Listen, Sherlock," she began, "I know that you are probably busy and everything, if so, I completely understand, but if not, would you mind accompanying me to New York? As I said, the police force there is lacking and it would mean a lot to my uncle and me if maybe you could catch whoever did this. Besides, I could use a friend by my side," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "but if you don't want to, it's fine."

I felt taken aback at her lack of faith in me. Had I really been so horrible that she thought I would not care to help her? Maybe so. I had an exceptional need to assure her that she was important to me, but could not find the words at the time. "Of course, Molly," was all I could muster. With that, I flipped up my collar and left the morgue abruptly.

* * *

_When I talked to John that night, I told him of the events of that afternoon. He said he was proud of me for being so supportive of Molly. How could I not be? She is the reason I am able to write this story to you today. I owe her my life. I owe her everything._

_I kissed Mrs. Hudson on the cheek before leaving 221 B. She made me promise to be nice to Molly. I quickly snapped that I am always nice and all she did was playfully roll her eyes. Molly met me at the bottom of the steps and carried Toby inside to Mrs. Hudson. She had promised to watch him for the week while we were away._

_While Molly was busy giving Toby related instructions to Mrs. Hudson, a black car crept up in front of me. Mycroft had arranged everything for our travel; plane and all. I placed our luggage inside and waited for her to join me once again. It gave me time to ponder over the events to come. I knew I could handle spending a lot of alone time with Molly. In fact, I could admit to myself that I would enjoy that part. I also knew that I could handle solving the murders, cracking codes is what I do. What I knew I couldn't handle was being a comfort for Molly. Of course, I knew I would attempt, but I also knew my attempts would seem rubbish to anyone who does not know me well. Sentiment is still a foreign concept to me._

_I pushed all of those thoughts to be back of my mind as Molly emerged to join me in the car. She was quiet for the entirety of the car ride and so was I. I honestly didn't know what I should say. I feared that anything I had to say about the situation would be considered a '**bit not good'** so I just kept my mouth shut. The plane ride proved to be the same. I knew Molly was sad, contrary to her belief, I can see her. I leaned my forehead against the window and gazed at the sights before me._

_I mentioned before that John suggested I write about this case, the case of Sleepy Hollow, to remember what I have forgotten. At that moment in the plane, I had no clue what horrific events I would have to endure to be here today, writing down my recounts of what happened. Though I find this entire activity tedious, I do hope this clears a few things up. And no! I cannot tell you exactly what I am struggling to remember right now, that would ruin the whole purpose of this nonsense. What I can say is that this trip changed me. Not in a dramatic way, but in just a few small ways._

_I, being the egotistical arse I am, quickly determined that this case was going to be easy to solve. That this was going to be the work of some crazed man with an obsession with the town's history and a troubled past. I estimated that I would have the case solved within forty-eight hours, Molly would find closure, and we could return home to London in a timely manner. I, though I hate to admit it, was very, very wrong. John Watson, if you are reading this, you had better savor that last sentence! I will not admit it again. Because, though there are things I cannot recall, the things that I can, have been burned into my mind palace._


End file.
